


But for the Grace of...

by outherenow



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Archangel Gabriel (Supernatural), Art History, Gabriel (Supernatural) is Loki, Gen, Trickster Gabriel (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24784834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/outherenow/pseuds/outherenow
Summary: Gabriel's laughter rings out loud and clear across the church. It's a stunning sound, like music and Sam's never heard a sound like it before."I am Loki."There is power in that statement but Sam doesn't understand. It's like it's at the tip of his tongue but he can't quite say the words he needs."Do you know who is often compared to Loki in Christianity?" Gabriel asks.~Sam's not the only being in the universe that grew up loving and running from family.~
Relationships: Gabriel & Lucifer (Supernatural), Gabriel & Sam Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Lucifer & Sam Winchester
Comments: 9
Kudos: 132





	But for the Grace of...

Sam’s dreaming but that doesn’t make it any less real. Lucifer’s still here, just not how he’s become used to him over the last few months. In fact, Sam’s not sure why he’s dreaming of a nude Le génie du mal instead of a rather more blue-collarish and blue jeans sort of devil. 

It’s giving him Stanford art history class flashbacks and he remembers Jess and how much she loved the story of why that statute got made. And oddly enough, trickster Gabriel flashbacks, despite the Archangel having died weeks ago. 

If Lucifer didn’t spend most nights these days trying to seduce Sam into giving him his body and soul and bring about the fall of humanity, he’d probably find more humor in the story. 

See it goes like this: once upon a time St. Peter’s Cathedral commissioned a sculptor named Josef to make a statue of the Devil. It most have been a pretty open-ended commission, because Josef went more ‘Morningstar’ than ‘Ruler of Hell’. Josef was undeniably talented and the result was apparently drool worthy and kinda fucking hot, Jess’s description, not Sam’s. Though Sam could definitely see others might find it attractive and while his taste in men was a bit different from his girlfriend’s he couldn’t really blame her. The young, nude, in shape statue didn’t scream evil, and apparently made all the young “pretty penitent girls” flock to church for all the wrong reasons. Mainly the devil was ‘sublime’ and the Church probably didn’t give horny teen girls many other options to check out hot young men. 

Well, the Church, in all it’s glory and fantastic life choices, decides this statue has Got. To. Go. No young women and very repressed men were going to find Satan attractive in this Cathedral. No, sir. Not on their watch. So they hire a different sculptor to make them a really evil looking Lucifer. Guillaume Geefs was tasked with this job. 

This is where a normal person who wasn’t literally Lucifer’s Vessel would think the story was really getting good. 

Guillaume, was Josef’s brother and just as talented. They had hired one of Josef’s brothers for a fresh new look. It went as well as one would expect it to. 

New statue Satan looked a bit older, a lot more dangerous, and slightly more evil. Also, a lot more ripped plus there were chains and crowns and strategically placed cloths and oh, Sam highly doubted this one didn’t have “pretty penitent girls” sneaking in to take a look. They were probably just better at hiding their admiration. 

Anyway the history lesson didn’t explain why he was currently sitting in a pew in St. Peter’s Cathedral uncomfortable close to the living statue that was currently folding one of it’s leather bat wings over Sam’s shoulder. 

Sam really wanted the Devil to stop touching him and to put on a freaking shirt. And pants. Pants would be really helpful. He’d hate having to explain this to Dean should he ever find out about this. 

And to stop talking… 

Oh the talking. 

And the promises. 

They sounded oh so good.

.

.

.

.

The nights switch off randomly. Lucifer still uses human images, Nick mostly, Jess occasionally, and then once in a blue moon they’ll be back in St Peter’s instead of a cheap motel room in bumfuck Nebraska or Tennessee or Arkansas or wherever, certainly not a grand cathedral in Belgium. Either way he’s come to dread sleep. 

Tonight’s a little different. He’s in the cathedral but his normal pew is devoid of Lucifer in any shape or form. Le génie du mal is still featured, but like in photographs it’s roped off so tourists can’t get too close and it’s still and cold marble. It’s just a statue, not the fallen angel himself. 

That’s a relief. 

However, the pew isn’t empty and Sam’s not sure why he’s dreaming of Gabriel. 

The Archangel’s sprawled out in the pew, candy bar in hand, looking decidedly human and as un-angel-ish as possible. Sam sits tentatively down beside him, fighting back the urge to cross himself, a throw back to the days he had faith in angels and higher powers and a smattering of catholic schooling from bouncing to school to school as a child. 

“You’re dead.” 

“So rude. No, ‘Hi Gabriel, so good to see you looking well after your tragic and heartrending stabbing.”

“I saw you die. I watched the badly made porno.”

Gabriel snorts around a mouthful of chocolate. 

“And then rewatched it when Dean was gone.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest-it was for research after all and it had oddly faded to black just seconds after the section he had first stopped watching with Dean -but Gabriel shushes him with one hand. 

“Oh hush, I know I’m irresistible.”

“Right. If you say so.” 

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Only the sound of Gabriel chewing on his candy, and Sam shifting uncomfortably fills the church. 

“So is this real?” asks Sam first to break. 

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.”

Gabriel shrugs and balls up the candy wrapper and pushes the trash into one of his pockets. 

“I’d really be more focused on the fact this is your first Lucifer free evening in months. You’re welcome. Seriously you boys have no manners.”

Gabriel’s gone before Sam can reply. The statue doesn’t move or try and seductively wrap Sam in it’s wings while whispering sweet sweet words in his ear. 

Sam sleeps. 

.

.

Lucifer as Nick returns the next night and then the next and next and next and….

.

.

Sam researches. He and Dean had been researching angels since they first met Castiel, but Sam’s confused by Gabriel. The Archangel doesn’t fit any of the lore they have on angels. He’s not an uptight mindless drone. He’s nothing like Raphael. He’s tried to reverse google search a screenshot of Gabriel’s porno in hopes of finding whoever was Gabriel’s vessel. There is zero evidence of a missing person wearing that face. It just doesn’t fit. 

.

.

.

.

This time Gabriel’s got a slice of white chocolate cheese cake that’s bigger than Sam’s head. He’s balancing the plate on a stack of hymnals beside him. 

It seems vaguely blasphemous to Sam, but he’s not the so called Holy Being in the room so he keeps his mouth shut.

Le génie du mal is still before them in all it’s carved glory. 

“You know,” begins Gabriel conversationally, like it’s the weather or something. “you’re not researching the right topics.”

“You mean the four keys?” 

“Oh that, nah, that was solid advice. No I mean your little pet project about me.”

He’s gone again before Sam can ask him anything.

He sleeps soundly that night.

.

.

.

.

He even goes to the Casa Erotica customer services page and makes the most awkward phone call of his life asking about their 13th installment, it’s male talent and the fact that it doesn’t exist according to the bored sounding minimum wage-earning dude on the other end of the line that's clearly judging Sam's sexual preferences based on the description of wanting to find more videos featuring the short, sandy haired guy with the fake mustache. 

.

.

.

.

“You know,” Gabriel says around licking an unseemly large chocolate dipped soft serve ice-cream cone, “You and sculpture of big bro here kinda look alike, the hair, the abs. If I didn’t know better good old Guillaume coulda used you as a reference. 

“If this is some weird way of saying I should say yes…”

“No, Sammy it really isn’t. Just a statement on how we should probably keep “pretty penitent girls” away from you.”

“Or fangirls.” Sam mutters under his breath. Supernatural wasn’t a best seller but it’s fans…urgh. 

“Nah, some of the fanfic is fantastic. You spend a lot of time shirtless in them.” He licks his icecream obscenely. “ I could have gone forever without reading the one’s about my baby bro and your big bro though.”

.

.

Despite the horrible mental image of Dean and Cas hooking up fanfic style, their real life soulful gazing and lack of personal space is bad enough, Sam still sleeps soundly that night. 

.

.

Sam hates reading through forums and fansites about Carver's horribly accurate version of him. It always makes him feel dirty in a way even drinking Demon blood doesn't.

The little he finds about the trickster is nothing he hasn't read before back when he was hunting him down after Dean's death.

.

.

He absolutely refuses to read the fanfiction. The real thing is bad enough. 

.

.

"You murdered Dean."

Sam expects a snappy come back. Something to cheapen his brother's life and Sam's obsessive revenge (something that firmly reminds him that he is and always will be John Winchester's son though that little introspective view was often pushed far far down) after. 

Gabriel pops the bright blue lollipop out of his mouth and stares at Sam. He stares at him the way other angels stand. Solid, inhuman, and expressionless. It is jarring on a face that is unusually expressive. Except for his eyes that are vast and endless and golden like a new sunrise after a storm. 

"If you both play your destined roles properly one or both of my closest siblings will die. Along with legions of my other family members. One's I helped shape and mold." 

Sam doesn't respond. 

They both stare at the statue before them. The carved tear sliding down Lucifer's cheek. 

A taste of humanity given to something so beyond human comprehension. 

.

.

He does not sleep well at all. Dean's dead in his arms and Lucifer is lounging beautiful and bright on his cheap motel bed. Telling him that together that they can set the world right. 

Sam just needs to say one small little word. 

.

.

No.

.

.

"Are you dead?" 

Gabriel smirks and offers Sam a chocolate chip cookie. 

Sam takes it and holds it like it's a grenade about to go off. 

"Contrary to your limited human interaction with us we aren't that easy to kill. You just think we are."

.

.

He sleeps Lucifer free, but still on edge.

.

.

There's a kid in the diner they pulled into one afternoon that's telling his mom about his favorite Supernatural story that his dad is reading to him as a bedtime story. 

He's excitingly mixing up info about scarecrows and gods and apples and Sam and Dean and demons and and and... 

.

.

.

.

There is a ton of info on the web when you type in the name 'Loki' it turns out. 

So much pop culture. 

So fucking much. 

And just a little lore.

.

.

.

.

"Thou shalt have no other gods before me." Says Sam as he sits next to the Archangel.

Sam's starting to think Gabriel is playing with him. Actually he knows Gabriel is messing with him. He always had in the past at least. Trickster fits him well.

"Congrats for remembering one out of ten rules?"

Today it's creme brulee and he's using the kneelers as a foot rest. If church is his Father's house then Gabriel is making himself at home the way Sam would at Bobby's.

"Thou shalt not kill."

"Make that two rules."

"You've broken at least those two."

"Oh Sammy, Sam-I-Am, they were never written with me in mind."

"I don't understand."

"I'm pretty sure humans were never ment to understand the divine. But let me spell part of it out for you. I am many things, but human is not one of them. Also, what god have I worshipped?"

"Loki."

Gabriel's laughter rings out loud and clear across the church. It's a stunning sound, like music and Sam's never heard a sound like it before.

"I am Loki."

There is power in that statement but Sam doesn't understand. It's like it's at the tip of his tongue but he can't quite say the words he needs.

"Do you know who is often compared to Loki in Christianity?" Gabriel asks.  
.  
.  
Dean's dead in his arms again, until he's not, eyes wide but black, demonic.

Lucifer's crooning softly that he'll never have to lose Dean again if he just says yes.  
.  
.  
According to several articles as Christianity expanded into cultures that followed the Norse gods, Loki went from being a god that would often aid humanity (though still playing games and general mischief) to practically being the Devil himself.  
.  
.  
"Can you tell me about your sibling?"

Gabriel licks his fingers as he puts the paper plate of funnel cake down. White sugar powder coats part of his shirt and the wooden pew. He's gazing at Sam, serious and wary.

"Which sibling? They are legion."

"Lucifer."

Gabriel talks of light. Music across the cosmos. Gabriel adores music and apparently so did his brother. Safety and comfort like Sam knows as Dean's leather jacket, the same cassette tapes played for decades now and his love for the impala.

Watching the earth form, playing in the very building blocks of the universe. Pure joy like humanity can't imagine.

Gabriel loves his brother.

Sam can hear it with every word from his lips.

Gabriel loves Lucifer unconditionally.

Gabriel loves his brother even though Lucifer stabbed him in an odd roadside motel just months ago and left him for dead.

What Gabriel doesn't say, doesn't cloud the stories with is the pride, the jealousy, the pain, the desire for something else.  
.  
.  
Dean's not here this time which makes Sam think that maybe he's slowly getting the lesson Gabriel wanted to teach him back all those Tuesdays ago.

Slowly and badly, but still.

Lucifer is though.

"Tell me a story."

Lucifer pauses and stares at Sam.

"Any specific story?"

"One about Gabriel."

There is music and the creation of the platypus by Gabe (apparently a very controversial animal in Heaven) and a rather epic prank played on some of the cherubim that only he and Gabe found absolutely fucking hilarious.

Lucifer sounds...fond.

It's harder to tell him no when he asks.  
.  
.  
"What was his name? Your vessel's name that is."

"She's very much alive thank you very much, and very much not a part of this story." Gabriel snipes at him, affronted. "I've made sure of that. However, you should know she's entirely awesome, like me."

"Wait what?"

"What?" He's got a hand full of m&ms that he's tossing and then catching with his mouth.

"Your true vessel is a girl?" Sam knows he sounds a bit like Dean at the moment and he's not particularly happy at the incredulous tone in his voice.

It was just unexpected.

"More like a badass 30 year old woman that would fuck you up in a fight Sammy. Think of her as my war model since she was supposed to be for the coming final battle."

"Wait who are you wearing then?"

"Oh boy. Sam I thought we were finally getting somewhere. You're the smart one afterall. I built this little compact model out of clay and earth. It's mine. No questions asked. No permission needed. "

.  
.  
Sam has more questions now than ever before.  
.  
.  
Researching ‘Gabriel the Archangel’ on the internet certainly doesn’t answer any of them. In fact, Sam’s already questionable relationship with religion and prayer and Christianity is starting to have crisis after crisis. Gabriel. The Gabriel that sits in church with him, that plays Trickster and god is hopscotching all over like twenty different theologies of thirty different religions and he doesn’t follow the rules in any of them. 

The Gabriel he had read about as a child with Pastor Jim. 

Sam’s starting to think that Gabriel might just be more powerful than even other angels can imagine.  
.  
.  
“Was it worth it?” Sam asks as he takes one of the chocolate truffles Gabriel offers him. “Leaving Heaven? Coming to earth. Witness protection and all of that?”

“I’ve always loved it here. It’s exciting in a way that can’t be matched elsewhere. Humans are terribly inventive creatures.” 

“And angels aren’t?” 

“You’ve meet a few of us now. What do you think?” 

“That they don’t, think that is. Not freely. Not really. But you do.”

“A little too freely if you ask my siblings.” Gabriel mutters almost to himself. Sam’s trying to imagine him in the ranks of Raphael and Uriel and he can’t see those personalities meshing well at all. He’s taking a wild unspoken guess that Gabriel and Lucifer, at least on Gabriel’s end were very close in the beginning.  
Maybe. Just maybe. They are very very very lucky that Gabriel didn’t fall too. 

“But was it worth it?” 

Gabriel shrugs and looks away. 

“Was Stanford worth it?”  
.  
.  
“How is he?” 

Lucifer is gazing at Sam, calm and radiant. 

“How is who?”

“My baby brother Gabriel, of course.”  
.  
.  
“I think Lucifer knows you’re alive.” 

Sam had gone to bed with Snickers in his pocket from the motel vending machine. They are slightly squished and melty but Gabriel flashes him a warm smile when Sam hands one over to him. They sit side by side staring at the Le génie du mal. 

“Not surprising, to be honest.” 

“I think he’s happy about that fact.”

“My brother is very good at lying with the truth.”

Sam nods and plays with the wrapper of his own candy bar. 

“It’s hard to tell him no, you know?” 

Gabriel’s voice is a multitude of emotion, warm and calming and painfully heartbroken. 

“I know all too well, Sam.”

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are awesome.


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